Mystery and Familiarity in Arches National Park

By Devin R. Larsen

Nature reveals God's presence: while a cliché statement, it is fitting for the profoundly humbling experience that nature can impose upon a person.

The human experience—on a singular level: for all of its love, relationships, eminences, defeats, privations, and tragedies—tends to become an insular one. In an attempt to create the greatest life for ourselves, we can become distressed over the attainment of our own self-possession while equally neglecting the comfort of others.

What this lifestyle ultimately leads to is one in which the central character becomes burdened by the pains of trivialities and distraught by stasis. When we are unable to accept that these commonalities are simply a part of life, anxiety and depression follows. Yet there is a way to escape this downward-spiral of thinking. To overcome this state of worry and wrought, one must have their insignificance—on the grand-scale (the cosmic sense)—put into perspective. Submerging yourself into nature is just one of these methods to achieve this.

If you have ever stood at the foot of a trail, ready to scale the face of a mountain, or hung your chest over the edge of a cliff, staring into the imminent death that plunging would bring, then you understand this feeling. The immensity of either sight proves to be overwhelming: your chest becomes stricken, the ribs transforming into a steel cage; your head begins to ache, ballooning and beating like the heart; and your extremities begin to numb, pricked with pins as all feeling escapes you.

It is in that moment—whether for the monumental natural architecture or for the danger imposed with traversing it—that the façade of self-importance begins to crumble. While entering Arches National Park, it is near impossible to stand beneath these natural rock formations and still be worried by the generalities of life.

Life, as you have known it, is suddenly on pause. Your life transitions into snapshots as you wander the land in awe, feigning focus on putting one foot in front of the other while your eyes are bound to the monoliths that breach the sky.

Perhaps you begin to think to yourself, "Something must have put these here. Some one ." If you so follow a religion, then you have irrefutable evidence of their divinity as etched in clay and stone. If not—whether a spiritual being or someone who believes in nothing—you will still become bested by nature: it is difficult not to feel small when walking through the arches (literally passing through history) or standing next to rocks that have managed to stay balanced on their pedestals for centuries.

In the end, it won't be surprising if you have your breath taken away. It wouldn't come as a surprise if you were equally moved to tears.

I had wanted to travel to Arches National Park for many years, and living on the East Coast of the United States made that near impossible. However, a cross country road trip made this opportunity plausible, and it became one of the primary highlights of a 3,500 mile journey. For me, Arches proved itself not only as a beautiful experience of nature, but as a personal accomplishment—finally having visited that which I had long awaited.

I have spent many years on trails, in the mountains and by the sea. I cherish the simplistic adventure that entails visiting the natural world. It's part of the reason why I appreciate nature so much more than I do cities: nature allows for you to be both socially alone and physically surrounded, encountering the monumental parts of our world either largely untouched or unknown.

Rather than imparting loneliness, nature imbues you with a sense of familiarity. Stripped of its trivialities, life becomes simpler, returning you to an age in which you've never known—one in which the land carries the spirit of the human experience. Among these preserved monuments—standing among the faint reverberations of Numu words once spoken and traversing the grounds in which the Ute and Paiute once lived—you feel as if you finally belong.

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Devin R. Larsenis a freelance writer and editor from the North Shore region of Massachusetts. He has previously been featured in Ruminate Magazine, and other work of his has been published in both Trail Runner Magazine and Dime Show Review.

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3 Responses

Patrick Willwerth

August 07, 2018

It has always been bewildering to me to hear people say “there is no God, no Creator” when looking at the world we live in, and the universe beyond. Or see your first hummingbird or Cardinal. But the kicker comes when you hold your first child, and later your grandchildren. That leaves no doubt about. Nice blog.

Claire Roy

August 07, 2018

I am awestruck reading this article!!!! Mr. Larsen has such a way of telling a story in such a personal way, I felt like I was there at the Arches seeing the wonder of nature in all it’s glory!

Anna Citrino

August 06, 2018

Thank you for your words describing the awe and humility experienced when standing in such a place as Arches National Park. Places such as these restore us and help us see our interconnectedness to all that is. I hope you can take more journeys such as this one you wrote about.

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